Page 12 of What the Leos Burned (BLP Signs of Love #6)

“Close your eyes.”

Princess shot him a puzzled look. “Zay . . .”

He gave that same crooked, chipped tooth boyish grin that had long melted her guard. “Come on, Pretty Prin. Don’t ruin the moment.”

The nickname made her heart flutter like it always had.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway and let out a soft sigh. “Fine. But if you got me another one of those knockoff purses from Forman Mills?—”

“Chill.” He chuckled, already fishing something from his pocket. “Just hold out your hand.”

She lifted her palm with fingers curled slightly. He placed something cold and delicate into it carefully, almost reverent.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Now open.”

She opened her eyes and gasped at the sight.

What rested in her hand was a sterling silver necklace. A small heart-shaped pendant shimmered beneath the soft yellow light of her bedroom lamp. It wasn’t iced out or flashy, but it was real. Thoughtful and earned.

“Zay . . .” she whispered with a fragile voice. The weight of it hit her all at once, how much he must’ve saved, how this wasn’t just a gift. It was him saying I see you.

“You like it?”

Her throat tightened as she blinked fast and nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

He slightly leaned back, proud but tried his best to play it cool. “I been savin’ for it. Wasn’t gonna get you no basic ass promise ring or none of that corny shit. This . . .” He nodded toward the necklace. “This felt right.”

She smiled instinctually, but then her mouth turned upside down, full of something vulnerable. “What’s the occasion?”

Suddenly, she felt it, the shift. A subtle tighten in his posture. His grin dimmed just enough to warn her heart.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure. “So, . . . I gotta tell you somethin’.”

Her heart dropped before the words even landed. She didn’t know what he was about to say, but she knew it wouldn’t be good.

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.”

The words felt like a door slammed shut on her fingers.

“Leavin’?” she echoed. “Where?”

“London. Paris. Couple cities in between,” he said. His eyes lit up again. “Remember that group we were messaging a few weeks back? Well, they put us on the international leg of the tour. Turns out it was a real thing. It’s big, Prin. Like, really big!”

His excitement bounced off the walls. He was already dreaming ahead of spotlights, foreign cities, standing ovations. She watched his face illuminate with possibilities and saw the boy she loved becoming the star he’d always wanted to be.

Although she looked just as excited and proud on the outside, all she could feel was the necklace that sat in her palm.

“Tomorrow?” she asked through a forced smile.

“Yeah. Real early flight.”

Princess nodded slowly, but her mind spiraled. He gave her this necklace that night and was flying out the very next day. No conversation. No heads-up. Not even a question about how she’d feel.

Zay kept talking, explaining tour details and the artist they’d be opening for . . . how this could change everything. But the sound of his voice faded behind her silence.

He had decided this alone, and she wasn’t part of the plan. She heard him mutter how long he was going to be gone for clearly through the sounds of his voice that she had drowned out.

“Six months?” she asked, her voice small.

“Yeah.” He beamed. “Ayo, this is huge! That UK act is bigger than what we thought it was right now. It’s what we prayed for.”

In that moment, she wasn’t praying. She struggled to process.

“Right,” she said slowly. “Of course.”

He didn’t hear the shift in her tone. He paced around the room, caught up in the dream.

“You drove me to open mics in the middle of snowstorms,” she heard him say as she tuned back in from her thoughts. “You was there when I was sleepin’ in my car after gigs. When it got repossessed with all my stuff in it. You knew this was the dream, right?”

She nodded again, lips pressed tight. “Yeah. I did.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he said, walking toward her. He gently lifted the necklace and clasped it around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, and she felt chills down her back.

“This right here? This is just the beginning. When I get back . . .”

She barely heard the rest and tuned him out again. The chain felt heavier than it looked and was real cold against her chest. She dropped her hands to her sides.

She couldn’t go with him and share this moment together like she imagined she would when the day arrived.

Not only had she just graduated from high school and had plans to go to college next semester, but he hadn’t even asked her to come.

She continued to smile and listen to him beam, but inside, a little piece of her heart withered and took a chunk of trust that she didn’t realize she wouldn't get back for fifteen years.

Before she knew it, it was morning, and she drove him to the airport in silence. The sky was the pale gray of a Michigan morning, muted and unforgiving. Weeds and wildflowers lined the roads. The city looked half asleep.

She gripped both hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead. The radio played something slow and warm in the background, but the car felt cold.

Zay sat in the passenger seat, hoodie up, tapping through the internet on his Motorola Razr. His face was bright, pressing the keys on the pad to type out “on the way now” through text. His leg bounced with nervous energy. He was happy. Free. He felt like the world had finally called his name.

She glanced at him and hoped he’d catch the way her eyes didn’t match her face. She hoped he’d see that she was breaking.

He didn’t.

She fought back tears when she pulled to the curb of the terminal. His group was already waiting, carrying duffel bags and cracking jokes. The energy was light, alive, and promising.

Zay leaned over and hugged her quick. Barely holding her.

“You gonna be good?” he asked, like this was normal.

She nodded. Couldn’t speak. If she spoke, she would have broken, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment for him. He noticed something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

He kissed her forehead, grabbed his bag out the back seat from the middle of them, and opened the door. He stepped up onto the curb. The others waved and called her name. She waved back, her throat tight.

Zay slammed the car door shut, turned, and headed toward them. His stride was quick, full of purpose. When he was halfway between her and the airport doors, she called out to him.

“Zay!”

He stopped, turned around in place, and stared at her.

“Be careful,” she said, voice trembling.

He smiled and nodded his head. Then, he turned and kept walking.

She sat there long enough to watch him disappear behind the glass doors. The engine still ran, and rain began to fall.

When the ache got too heavy to hold in, she broke.

Her body folded over the wheel, and sobs shook her shoulders. The horn honked briefly under the weight, but she didn’t care. Tears streamed down her cheeks, fast and hot. The necklace he gave her the night before sat against her skin like a lie.

It didn’t feel like a promise anymore.

It felt like a goodbye.